


Kilgharrah's Grief

by MissingTales



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Dragons, Fairy Tale Elements, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Mysticism, Supernatural Elements, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-25 10:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20722793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissingTales/pseuds/MissingTales
Summary: [“Before you go, young warlock...” The dragon bared his teeth in a poor imitation of a human smile. “Remember, you have made a promise." - “You tricked me once! How can I be sure, you won't hurt anyone?"]Deep below Camelot the Great Dragon yearns for freedom. An unspeakable grief twists his thoughts, but it needs a hunting trip gone awry, until his human friend, the young warlock Merlin, learns why.This is part of the Writers Anonymous Drabble Challenge, originally posted at fanfiction.net.





	1. Nightly commotion

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Writers Anonymus Drabble Challenge (fanfiction.net)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/521615) by Writers Anonymus Forum. 

> Coverart created by [Chunni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chunni), many thanks for that. To view it in full size, go visit her site on [flickr](https://www.flickr.com/photos/165809663@N02/48797255578/in/dateposted-public/) and show her some love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...that set things in motion.

_Announcement Board:_

_In a land of bytes, in a time without magic, the destiny of a great fandom rests on the shoulders of a young boy. His name? MERLIN. _

_Camelot is joining a great tournament of poets in the “Writers Anonymous Drabble Challenge.” “Tell us a story,” they say, “But tell it with drabbles of exactly 100 words. No more, no less." And so Merlin and Prince Arthur embark on a quest to create the magic vignettes and bring fame and honor to Camelot. _

_This is the story, how it was seen in the Crystal Cave through the soothsaying crystals._

* * *

* * *

„_Merlin! Meeeerlin! MERLIN!“_

The young man awoke with a jolt, staring into the darkness of his chamber with wide, startled eyes. He was alone. No one was here._ Figures. _Annoyed, he run a hand through his raven hair, trying to rub away the faint echo of the dark, disembodied voice. He just wanted to sleep, was that too much to ask?

„_MERLIN!“_

Apparently so. Merlin shut his eyes in resignation.

_What was it the dragon wanted from him this time? _

There was just one way to find out. The drowsy warlock donned his clothes and hurried to heed the call.

* * *

Twenty years in chains and solitude meant little to a millenia-old being. Twenty years of deprivation from sun and wind and rain however, to a creature made of fire and magic, evoked an insatiable, aching desire. And the great dragon yearned for relief. His long talons clawed into cold rock, yearning to squish the soft pink flesh of his jailer in his grasp.

Kilgharrah bided his time.

Soon he would be free. He would have his revenge. And the young warlock, forgotten son of the very man who once betrayed him, would give it to him. Merlin owed him that!

* * *

The cat, that vagabonded the sleepy corridors of Camelot Castle in the chase for mice, froze in it's steps. It's tail twitched anxiously, it's ears twisted in every direction. It had heard a sound that didn't belong to the night. Didn't belong to the castle, when the Twoleggers slept and the time of cat had dawned.

Hiding in the shadows, it's round, shiny eyes unveiling the darkness, the cat watched a lanky figure crossing the yard. Sneaking, peeking, with the dulled senses of the Twoleggers, tumbling down a path even mice never dared. _Not a wise one_, the cat thought.

* * *

“What did you wake me for at this hour?” Merlin's voice resonated ghastly in the vast cave deep underneath Camelot. Golden dragon eyes reflected his dancing torchlight, pinning him with undecipherable serenity, but Merlin refused to feel intimidated. “Prince Arthur will go hunting first thing tomorrow. That's gonna be an awfully long day!”

“Before you go, young warlock...” The dragon bared his teeth in a poor imitation of a human smile. “Remember, you have made a promise.”

“You tricked me once! How can I be sure, you won't hurt anyone?”

"You cannot."

"Then you'll never be free!”

And Kilgharrah roared.

* * *

Usually, night's duties in Camelot's dungeons were not bad. Usually, the cells were empty, because King Uther preferred quick executions over exhausting imprisonments. The guard job here was easy and the soldier, who hold this post for years, never claimed to be bright. But he rarely ever was frightened.

Until, this night he was.

This night, a roar erupted from underneath his feet, deep within the bowels of the mountain, the castle rested upon, a roar that erased every happiness, every bravery, every courage from his soul and replaced it with terror. An ancient roar of betrayal, grief and rage.

* * *


	2. Astrayed Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...in which Merlin makes an unexpected acquaintance.

* * *

_Danger! Dread! Demise! Hurry, hush, hide, humans are near!_

The rhythm of their hooves was their prayer for life. Brown or red fur, crowned or not crowned, they must flee.

_Two humans in the woods. Only two, but they rode two horses, and they had two voices that could speak, and they had four hands that held weapons, and they had weapons, oh so many weapons, so sharp and so stingy and so shiny. Shiny in the sun, because they hunted in the sun, because no deer could hide from them, and oh hide, hush, hurry! Humans in the woods!_

* * *

Thrilled, Arthur listened to a fleeing canter until...

“I don't understand, why does 'clearing your head' involve hunting and killing defenseless animals?”

Arthur groaned irritably and spurred his horse. Must his servant always complain about anything? “Don't be such a _girl_, MERlin! You do enjoy some game, too, don't you?”

“At least we could have brought the knights,” the boy went on, undeterred by the prince's increasing annoyance. “The Darkling Woods are not safe.”

“Stop being ridiculous. Camelot is not even half a day away. We will be back before...”

At that moment a tiny arrow sent Arthur to sleep.

* * *

King Uther raged. “Has my son returned yet?”

His most trusted knight bowed his head in shame. “No, my lord. There is no sign of him.”

“How is that possible? The prince is YOUR responsibility. Why did he leave alone this morning?”

“He did not, sire,” the knight dared to object. “Merlin is with him.”

“Merlin!” Uther spat, disgust in every syllable. “That foolish boy is lucky to keep his head on his shoulders on a good day. I want Arthur found! Now! And no word to anyone!”

The knight briefly imagined, he felt the castle tremble under Uther's wrath.

* * *

Sereena danced and laughed with her thousand sisters as they caught the Once and Future King before he fell from his horse, fast asleep. A thousand little pairs of wings and one crowned his golden hair with unearthly lights.

She felt his raven haired protector calling for his powers.

“What have you done to him?”

“Do not be afraid, Emrys,” she sang to the warlock, soothing him calmly.

“My name is Merlin.”

“We know who you are.” Her sisters laughed a jingle of a thousand tiny bells. “We want to show you something. Come. Your prince is safe with us.”

* * *

In a cave of crystals, the very place where magic began, an old druid hunched over images he did not comprehend. Images of a bearded old man with the eyes of a boy. Images of a raven haired boy with the powers of a young god.

_Emrys._

Distorted glimpses into the future, of wrath and fire and destruction. The crystals were tricky, their prophesies not always true, not all they seemed to be. Never what he wanted them to be.

“Do not free the dragon, Emrys! Do not trust the song!” But the crystals would not pass on his voice.

* * *


	3. The Spirit's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... in which Merlin learns about Khilgharra's Grief

* * *

Merlin followed the glowing lights with awe. Only his magic sight allowed him to see their flurry movements. He saw how sunlight danced on translucent wings, alike to dragon flies. How the forest responded, it's green richer, it's perfume sweeter, it's voice brighter.

Merlin knew they meant no harm. They were spirits of the old religion and he was kin to them.

When they stopped, he could do nothing but to gape. The valley, that opened before him, was no place of mortal men.

And the skeleton, that defiled it, had no equal in the living world. None but one.

* * *

Ghealaich soared through the sky, alongside Kilgharrah, her mate. Warriors of a war they never started, driven by the Dragonlords' irresistible voices. Where they appeared, they left fire and destruction behind.

So many Dragonlords, slain. So many dragons, slaughtered.

The new, pretentious King of Camelot had left them no choice. He had declared war on magic, threatened the balance of Albion, desecrated the holy gift of life. And he would pay for it.

Uther would die, his kingdom burn, his flawed line perish, for what he had done.

A treacherous bolt, glowing blue with magic, plucked her from the sky.

* * *

“Help her, Emrys.” Sereena's light dimmed with grief.

The warlock bowed his head. “There is nothing I can do.” A deep sorrow spoke through his voice. “This dragon died a long time ago.”

But Sereena had not sought his help for Ghealaich, Moonlight. It was the crimson Hope, that slowly withered in her care. She was of water, the child of fire. And it needed it's kin.

So Sereena sang to Emrys. Her song was sad, but he must know. How the mother fell from the sky, how the father was betrayed, and how the child had come to be.

* * *

“I am so sorry,” Lord Balinor said, stroking the silver snout of the dying dragon, “Ghealaich, truly, I am. Uther betrayed me as well as he did Kilgharrah. He had promised peace. He had promised an end of war.”

“He did end the war, his way,” Ghealaich breathed, her breath too shallow for voice.

The spirits of the waters danced around them, protecting them from unkind eyes. The forest brightened in color and in life, but the Dragonlord only saw the fading of his kin, his soul.

“What name would you have given her? My daughter?"

"Muinighin."

"Hope," she smiled.

* * *

“Who was Balinor?” Merlin asked, wiping a tear from his cheek. The song died away.

“He is,” the spirit simply answered. It might look like a dragon fly, but it spoke in riddles like a real dragon. “And now you are. Will you help her?”

He saw a movement behind the dragon skull. A soft, scared screech escaped a crimson mound that slowly unfold to a creature, with wings so gauzy he could see the trees behind them, and eyes as golden as Kilgharrah's.

"Muinighin," he whispered.

"When a Dragonlord gives a name, a dragon is born," the spirit said.

  
  


* * *


	4. Struggling Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... that demand a decision

* * *

A sleeping prince and a spooked servant arrived at Camelot at midnight. The guards let them pass. They had given up on asking them questions. They hardly ever got any answers. Their prince had left to hunt. He came back, sleeping, with glowing insects in his hair.

“Why is the prince asleep?” they could have asked.

“He is just looking inwards,” the servant could have answered. He always said such weird things, that servant. “Is everything alright here?”

“The ground is angry,” they could have said. Because it was. Very angry, trembling and rumbling. But the bewildered guards remained silent.

* * *

  
  


“Will that hateful creature never stop tormenting me?” the king exclaimed towards the growling ground. His knights knew well to leave him to his solitude when he was in this mood.

That dragon laughed. Uther was sure of it. That creature knew the prince was missing and he wallowed in Uther's pain.

“_Your kingdom will burn, your flawed line perish.”_

With the dragon bound, this threat meant nothing. Uther had won. His line secure. Why was the mad dragon laughing then?

Arthur was strong and skillful, well able to defend himself, but the dragon was magic. The king distrusted magic.

* * *

“The dragon can't be trusted!” The old physician could not believe, what he just had heard. His ward Merlin was the most troublesome fellow with the most foolish ideas he had ever known.

“But, Gaius, there is a child that needs its father!” The boy fidgeted anxiously on his chair.

“Don't be foolish. A dragon doesn't need anyone. It's a magical creature and quite capable of defending itself.”

“She is not.”

“SHE?” Gaius's voice pitched exasperatedly.

“Muinighin. She is weak. I think, she might be dying.”

“Nonsense! That dragon is none of your concern, do you understand?”

Merlin remained silent.

* * *

_“This must be the longest earthquake ever,”_ Gwen thought, as she peered out the pitch black windows of her hut. Deserted and silent, the nightly market street revealed no sign of Merlin or the prince. Hopefully they were alright. The earthquake was mild and barely made her tableware chink. But still...

A rapid knocking made her jump.

“Gwen?” _That was Merlin's voice! _

She dashed to open the door. Her friend entered, agitated, unwilling to take the chair she offered, and blurted, "Gwen, please, help me. What is stronger? A father's love or the thirst of revenge?"

Sometimes, Merlin frightened her.

* * *

Fierce and fiery, Kilgharrah fought against his shackles. The magical chain withstood. Another broken promise to fuel his rage, twice betrayed, by the Dragonlord and by his son. Now Kilgharrah was incarcerated in his tomb, forever alone and forgotten.

“Kilgharrah?”

Hope! There Merlin stood, determined, fearless and clueless. Was there pity in that human's eyes? “How do I free you?”

"Come closer and I'll teach you,” he hummed softly, reaching out to Merlin's innate magic.

“Before you act on hate,” the foolish boy said, “remember love. Search for the valley of the water spirits.”

Then his spell shattered the chains.

* * *

The cat had meant to doze another hour until the hunt, when a scent of fear passed by. The trembling and the growling of the ground had stopped. The Twolegger, the unwise one, had returned from the cave of fire, where no mouse would go and no cat would explore.

Hissing, the cat shrank back into the shadows. It felt the Great and Ancient, predator of old, leaving its prison. Very, very unwise. Soon fire would fill the air like it had the cave.

The Ancient would not abandon its twenty year old hunt. It had waited for too long.

* * *


	5. The Night of First Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...where the fate is changing

* * *

Alone she was again, so long alone. Not always though. She must not forget. Long ago, there has been the warm one, the loving one, the one with scales like moonlight and eyes like sunkissed water. Then there has been water only. Dancing water and singing water and laughing water, but still water, and when she laughed with them, laughed her fiery laughter, they would recoil, shrink back and hide.

But then the raven boy came and called her by her name. Called her hope because Hope she was. And he taught her a name. A name she must call.

* * *

“Kilgharrah!” Merlin peered into the night, trying to make out dark wings against a starless sky. He stood on the highest tower, trembling in fear. Camelot was still asleep, oblivious to his unforgivable mistake.

The great dragon claimed the sky on mighty wings, relishing his freedom. His terrible laughter echoed in Merlin's head. “Uther will pay now,” he roared, “and your petty magic cannot stop me!”

“Kilgharrah! Listen!” Merlin pleaded.

“I have listened enough, young warlock! Take your future king and flee. But Camelot will fall!”

Menacing, the relentless dragon flew in, the molten gold of his eyes without mercy.

* * *

The soothsaying crystal turned red with fire and the old druid draw back in terror. Tears formed in the wrinkled corners of his eyes.

“Emrys. What have you done?”

Wrath and fire and destruction in the crystals. History repeating itself. The greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth, loosing. And the hope for Albion fading. Only one could command the dragon, but he had yielded to bitterness. Lord Balinor would not help this time.

The druid looked closer.

The crystal was red, yes. But why was there no fire? Red like crimson. Red like the Pendragon banner. Red like Hope.

* * *

“How do I call with my dragon voice?” Muinighin asked her guardians. The raven boy hadn't known that. The singing water didn't know either. She must find it within herself, they told her. But she was so scared. Within herself there was her fire, and her fire would scare off her only friends. And if the other would not find her, she would be so alone. Always alone.

“If you don't speak now, you will never,” Sereena sang. She trusted Sereena, but Sereena waved her goodbye and left. And left. And left.

And Muinighin roared in despair. A dragon's roar.

* * *

Tonight was the night of first times. For the first time in twenty years he could fly for miles without restraint. For the first time in twenty years he was no docile pet anymore. For the first time in twenty years he … heard another.

Impossible. He was the last of his kind. There was no one left after...

Moonlight danced on silent water in the distance. Merlin's voice resonated in his head. “Remember love.” The human on the tower, still his friend, watched him horrified. 

“Damn it, Merlin!”

Kilgharrah turned. An irresistable voice pulled him towards the moonlit valley.

* * *

The night was dark and starless, yet moonlight danced on the waters of the valley's lake. Moonlight watched over the sanctuary of the fire's child. Moonlight found a way through thickening clouds, through the veil, that parted the living world from the Between. Unearthly lights caressed the wailing one like a mother's hand.

The veil had lifted. The valley's watery guardians, gone. Moonlight only illumed the way now, because there was hope. There was a child, that cried and a father, who was alone no more.

Moonlight left the valley and dispersed behind black clouds. Joyful rain began to fall.

* * *

When Arthur awoke, he felt wonderful. A deep peace had settled in his limbs and he felt strong. Until the memories returned.

"MERLIN!”

“Sire?” His manservant popped up from behind his bed, as if he had sat there all night. Not unlikely, considering the deep shadows under these tired eyes.

“What am I doing back in Camelot? We were...”

“You fell asleep during hunting,” Merlin interrupted him with the ghost of a smile, “I told you, hunting gets boring after a while.”

Arthur pinned him with a stare. "If you EVER tell anyone about it, I swear..."

Merlin grinned brighly.

CoverArt created by [Chunni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chunni/pseuds/chunni)


End file.
